


Secret Keeper

by Marks



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-04
Updated: 2008-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Someone told me a secret," Brendon says, tightening his grip on Jon's hip. His thumb is pushing up the hem of Jon's shirt, right above Jon's waist to press against bare skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: crush, tickle

"Brendon, dude, you're kind of crushing me here," Jon says, backing up a step even though he doesn't have anywhere to go. Even on his best day, Brendon Urie has a loose definition of what constitutes personal space, but getting crowded into a corner of Panic's dressing room wasn't on Jon's agenda for the day. As much as Jon has an agenda. Which isn't at all.

"Someone told me a secret," Brendon says, tightening his grip on Jon's hip. His thumb is pushing up the hem of Jon's shirt, right above Jon's waist to press against bare skin. Jon sucks in a sharp breath. He's going to kill Tom; he'd said that when he was drunk and he even made Tom do a spit-swear handshake not to tell. And now hyper little singer Brendon knew anyway. At least a dead best friend could be quiet, for fuck's sake.

"Listen, it's not a big deal, really. I can explain--"

Brendon pushes up Jon's shirt a little further, pressing his whole palm against Jon's side, and Jon hisses. Maybe Tom's not so dead if this is the result. What the hell, might as well. Jon gets up on his tiptoes, vaguely hearing the bottoms of his flip-flops slap against the dirty linoleum, and licks Brendon's bottom lip.

"Jon," Brendon says, blinking wide and sounding way less sure of himself than he had a second earlier. Jon's shoulders sag and he tilts his head back. So maybe not as good a result as he'd thought. "_Jon_," Brendon says again. Jon chances a look and gets Brendon's mouth pressed against his for the trouble. He opens his mouth and lets Brendon inside.

The buckle of Brendon's belt is pressed right against the skin of Jon's belly, heating between them as Jon sinks his fingers into Brendon's hair and Brendon drags his tongue up Jon's throat. Brendon lurches forward and his dick digs into Jon's thigh, his mouth dropping open in one hell of a sliding-scale moan as Jon runs his hands down to grab Brendon's ass.

Tom is now Jon's hero, the best friend a guy could ever have. He's so getting all of Tom's drinks for a _month_ even though that's a one-way ticket to the poor house.

"So," Jon says as Brendon tongues his ear, "how do you feel about a guy sucking your dick?" The shudder that instantly runs down Brendon's body is a pretty good answer, but nowhere near as good as Brendon's deep, breathless voice telling him, "If it's you, Jon Walker? Pretty fucking good."

Jon grins and slides to his knees, his heels pressed hard against the wall behind him, his face against Brendon's jeans. He pulls them open without hesitation and tongues across the head of Brendon's dick, making Brendon curl over him and look down, his hands flat against the wall. It's a little like Jon is trapped there, caged in by Brendon's arms and body, and the thought is hotter than it should be. He slides his mouth all the way down until Brendon's cock is bumping the back of his mouth. That traps him another way and that's pretty hot, too.

He reaches around to hold on to Brendon's ass again, something Jon can see himself wanting to do all the fucking time, and pulls him in hard. Brendon pulls back, gasping out Jon's name breathlessly, but Jon just stubbornly pulls him in again setting up a brutal pace. It's not long until Brendon's hips win out over any misplaced sense of chivalry and he's thrusting in and out of Jon's mouth, a string of curses and praise spilling from his mouth. Jon slips a hand down between Brendon's legs to brush behind his balls and then Brendon is coming, just that easy. From the broken sound Brendon makes, Jon thinks he surprised himself.

Jon swallows and looks up, shooting Brendon a lopsided smirk as he stands again. His feet are prickling from the kneeling, but it's not like he minds. Not with Brendon's tongue in his mouth again or his hands shakily pulling open his pants.

"I'm glad Tom told you," Jon says against Brendon's mouth, arching up as Brendon's hand strokes him, tight and perfect.

"Tom?" asks Brendon, looking confused. "Siska just told me that you were ticklish!"


End file.
